“There is another reason. The name of a certain young lady must not be introduced into this case.”
“I have begged her not to testify.”
“But she will testify if this trial goes on—that you know well. Now you will come with us, for her sake if not for your own.”
“Be it so then,” replied Dick. “Lead the way.” Just as quietly as they had come the little band of riders rode through the silent and deserted streets. They took the southern road, and for the first few miles kept to the thoroughfare. Then, reaching a stretch of unreclaimed land, they started across country. The night was moonless and dark, but Dick knew instinctively that they were making for the mountainous country to the north of the Tejon Pass.
The leader rode a short distance ahead. Not a word was spoken. In about two hours they were among the foothills. The pace slackened, and then, as they reached a clump of oaks, a halt was called. From under the shadow of the trees a man appeared, leading two sturdy little mountain ponies. The newcomer wore no mask.
“This man will be your guide from now on,” announced the leader, whose features were still concealed by the strip of black cloth tied around the lower part of his face. “I am sorry we must ask you to wear a blindfold, Mr. Willoughby. But you are among friends, and I feel sure you will help us all by your ready assent.”
“I am in your hands,” replied Dick, quietly. A few minutes later he was seated on one of the ponies, his eyes securely bandaged. The saddle was a big comfortable Mexican one, and he rested his hands on the horn; for there was no bridle, only a leading rein held by the man mounted on the other pony.
“Adios!”
It was the leader’s voice again, and now once more Dick was on the move, the nimble little pony cantering gently over the turf.
